


No More to Roam

by of_dreamdust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholic!John Winchester, F/M, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, John Being an Asshole, M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, human!AU, john being a bad father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 06:32:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8276156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/of_dreamdust/pseuds/of_dreamdust
Summary: In a happy relationship with the man he loves and with a stable job, Dean Winchester doesn’t think he has ever been happier in his entire life. But a surprising invite from his father will force Dean to reflect on the things he has and to think how badly exactly he wants to keep it.





	1. I'm Going There

**Author's Note:**

> this is my second time participating in dcbb and I cannot say I'm happy with this fic. it was supposed to be something completely else, but I simply didn't have enough time. however, I would like to say thank yous to people who did bear with me.   
> so a big thank you to my artist, cometcharlie, who somehow found enough inspiration to draw something for me! she was extremely patient and kind.   
> then a big big thank you to palecupcakekid, who was my beta, who had enough patience to go through the fic and point out things that didn't sit right. (unfortunately, I did have enough time to rewrite them all, but still a huge thank you for that!)  
> and of course, a big thank you to you, if you managed to read this fic! every kudos or comment is more than appreciated!

Sam calls him while he’s on a break, and for a moment, Dean panics.  

But his brother greets him rather casually, wondering if he’s bothering him on his work, and giving him Jessica’s greetings. They chat for a couple of minutes before Sam drops it on him.

“So, umm. Are you going?” his brother asks, and Dean can hear the tension in his voice.

Dean stops and blinks. “Am I going where?”

“Well, you know. To dad’s,” Sam replies, and Dean’s entire world stops.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he says, his voice too harsh without him wanting it to be.

“Have you, umm,” Sam stutters. “Haven’t you seen the e-mail?”

“No,” Dean answers, and yeah, it’s pretty obvious that he’s missing out on something here.

Sam takes a deep breath. There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again, this time more slowly, more carefully. “Dad sent us an e-mail a few days ago. And long story short, he says he’s clean now, apparently he’s got an apartment and everything, and he’s invited us over for Thanksgiving’s.”

For a moment Dean says nothing, just hears his own heart beating fast and hard in his ears. “Did you- Did you write him anything?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

“No,” Sam answers quickly. “No, I wanted to talk to you first. I mean, I won’t go if you won’t.”

Dean rubs a hand across his face. “Do you want to go, Sam?”

Sam pauses. “I don’t know, honestly. I’ve been talking to Jess, and I, umm… I’m not too keen on the idea, I mean. But on the other hand…” He trails off and Dean thinks he has an idea of what he’s trying to say.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. I have to go back to work now, I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay. Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“I know, Sammy.”

Dean hangs up and rushes to ask Bobby if he could finish early.

***

The e-mail from his father has ended up in the spam folder and Dean doesn’t know whether to laugh at that little appropriate coincidence.

He reads the message over and over again, sees both his and Sam’s e-mail address written in the corner. The ‘subject’ place was left empty. What could’ve he written, anyway, Dean thinks. Reunion? Repayment? Hey, guys, I remembered I have children, but what are you gonna do, better late than never, right?

Dean doesn’t even know where he found their e-mails. Okay, Sam was handing out his visit cards like crazy once he opened his fancy lawyer office a year ago, maybe it somehow got in his hands. Maybe he hit someone with a car again and someone was kind enough to recommend a good lawyer. Or it was something less malevolent and he just found it by accident. Sam has made a good reputation in the last couple of years, perhaps it’s just a word of mouth sort of thing.

It still doesn’t explain how he found Dean’s address.

_Dear Sam and Dean_ , it says.

_I know it’s been a long time, and a lot of things have happened. But things changed around here. I changed. I’ve been in a recovery program for a while, and I got my own place._  
I would like you boys to come to visit me this Thanksgiving’s if you want to.   
John

It sounds wrong. It sounds like he’s inviting them for a business lunch. It’s short and empty.

But Dean thinks he would be madder if John went on and on about himself; he thinks that maybe this way John is showing that he has grown up somewhat, that he’s dealing with his problems.

Dean knows he would feel worse if he had signed with ‘Dad’ or anything similar. John has lost the right to call himself that thirty years ago. Maybe it does show he’s coming to realize his own mistakes.

Maybe.

Maybe Dean’s trying to justify him again, like he was doing all those years.

Dean taps his fingers against the table and stares at the message, not really seeing it anymore. He’s angry and upset and he doesn’t want to be hopeful, and it’s hard to admit to himself that he is.

Most of all, Dean’s worried. What if they come there only to find out it was some kind of a trick? What if John just wants to use him again; maybe he just wants Sam’s help but knows that he wouldn’t come without Dean.

And what happens if it is true, and John is recovering? Does he expect to just fall back into their lives? Does he even want that anymore?

Even if he does want it, Dean’s not sure he’s ready to let him. He has become so overprotective of the life he has built here - far away from his childhood that never really was – a stable and secure life, and just boring enough to make Dean feel safe again.

There’s that old instinct kicking in, instinct that’s telling him to keep Sam the hell away from it all. But he also knows that Sam is a grown person now – and Dean couldn’t be any more proud of everything his brother has become – and Sam is kind and stronger, so much stronger than Dean, and he might want to let John back in.

Dean isn’t sure that he likes it. He isn’t sure that he wants it.

The loud sound of the front door opening and closing snaps Dean back to his kitchen, and he closes his laptop, pushing it aside for now. He stands up and heads towards the door right when a tall, dark-haired man walks in carrying grocery bags in both of his hands.

“Hey, you’re home early,” Castiel says, his eyes lightening up when he sees Dean.

“Yeah, we didn’t have much work so Bobby let me go home earlier,” Dean replies, taking the bags from his hands and putting them on counter.

Cas leans in to kiss his check before he goes to shrug the trenchcoat off his shoulders. “Well, I’m glad anyway.”

Dean smiles, his own shoulders finally relaxing a bit, as he begins taking things out of the bags. “How was your day?”

Castiel rolls his eyes and takes a carton of eggs to put it in the fridge. “Two students were fighting over whether Mercutio was gay or not, and I actually had to kick them out of the class because they were getting so loud.”

Dean chuckles. “English majors,” he mutters under his breath.

“Not if they don’t calm the hell down,” Castiel mutters as he starts taking out the plates. “I’ll fail them all if I have to listen to someone talking bad about Shakespeare one more time.”

“What do they have against Shakespeare?”

Castiel raises his eyebrows. “You’d be surprised.” He pauses and looks around the kitchen. “Where did I put my keys?”

“Here,” Dean takes them of the counter and holds them up. Castiel makes a move with his hand, gesturing to throw them to him, but Dean shakes his head.

Castiel smiles but still walks up to him and slowly hugs him around his waist. “I have hundred and twenty essays to look through. I ordered pizza.”

Dean kisses the top of his head. “Hey, that’s perfectly fine with me.”

Castiel just sighs and they stay like that for couple of minutes.

Dean’s thinking about telling him right away, about the e-mail and Sam. But Castiel is all slack in his arms, and they’re going to have dinner and probably watch some shitty movie before they go to bed, and he doesn’t want to skip that little part of their routine, not now.

“So, was he?” he says instead.

“Huh?” Castiel frowns and moves to look at him.

“Mercutio,” Dean explains. “Was he gay?”

Castiel nods. “Oh, most definitely. But the guy was insisting they were all just close friends, and honestly, I couldn’t look at his face any more.”

Dean chuckles. “You’re a horrible professor.”

“I know.”

The bell rings and Castiel entangles himself from Dean to go get their dinner.

“Someone has to be that, too,” he explains, taking his wallet from his pocket.

***

Castiel lies on their couch and carefully watches Dean, who is sitting on the opposite end, right next to Castiel’s feet.

His legs are prompted on the small coffee table – a habit of his which Castiel gave up scolding him for, long ago – and one of his elbows is resting on the pillow on his other side. The light in the room is off, and only the light of the TV illuminates Dean’s face, playing on his features, making him seem more distant.

He’s beautiful like this, Castiel thinks.

But there’s something tense in him, and Castiel doesn’t know what.

Dean keeps looking at TV, but he doesn’t seem to notice the device, much less what’s going on in the movie they’re supposed to be watching. He’s so unfocused that he doesn’t even notice Cas looking at him. He still has the plate on his lap, and keeps turning a piece of pizza crust over in his hands.

In any other case, Castiel might let him work it out in his head, wait for him to tell him what he decides is relevant. Dean usually does tell him everything anyway. But Castiel knows that look; he has seen it for the first time more than ten years ago when he met Dean for the first time. It is a kind of constant tension in his shoulders, like he’s waiting for something to jump at his neck.

It has slowly faded many years ago too, when Castiel finally saw that happy young man Dean could’ve been – _should’ve_ been – for his entire life. It pained Castiel to see the man he fell in love with in such pain, without being able to help. And it makes him hurt now, when he can again see the traces of it in the look on his face.

Castiel knows something must’ve happened, but he can’t even try to guess what it is. The only time he can usually see the traces of it, is on his mother’s birthday or the anniversary of her death. (It’s none of those right now, Castiel knows, he always knows.) He wonders if maybe something has happened to Sam, but he mostly shrugs it off, because if his brother was in question, Dean would’ve already told him.

No, it’s something different, some kind of anomaly in their practiced lives, and Castiel can’t figure out what exactly it is.

So Castiel slowly sits up and puts his hand on Dean’s thigh. That causes the other man to finally focus in; he turns his attention to Castiel and his face softens.

“You want to finish it?” he asks, offering him his plate.

Castiel shakes his head and waits until Dean puts the plate on the table and sits up more squarely. He then gently leans into him, spreading his hand on Dean’s chest.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean nods silently and kisses Castiel’s forehead. “’M good,” he murmurs. “Why?”

“You keep zoning out on me,” Castiel says, still looking him carefully. “I think something’s bothering you.”

Dean huffs a laugh. “Well, damn,” he mutters.

“What’s wrong, Dean?” Castiel asks him, gently touching his chin.

Dean rubs his hand across his face. “It’s, umm. Sam called me today.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s fine,” Dean hurries to explain. “They’re both fine, he and Jess. He just, umm. He wanted to know if I checked my e-mail recently.”

“E-mail? Why?”

Dean pauses for a minute, playing with the hem of Castiel’s sweater. “Well, umm. Apparently, dad sent us a message. He wants us to come over for Thanksgiving.”

Suddenly Dean’s behavior makes much sense to him. And Castiel feels angry. He knows he’s not supposed to, he knows it’s not his place to be this angry and bitter about it, but he cannot help but feel strong antipathy for the man.

He tries to keep his voice even when he speaks again. “Oh? And what did you say?”

Dean sighs. “Nothing. Well, not yet, at least.”

“What did Sam say?”

“I think he wants to go.” Dean shrugs. “I mean, John wrote that he’s been in rehabilitation or something, so Sam probably thinks that he…”

“Sam thinks he wants to fix things.” Castiel nods. He can understand the need to forgive their father. He can understand the hope that he wants to be forgiven.

“It’s a bit too late for that,” Dean almost whispers. “But maybe he wants to… I don’t know, reconnect or something.”

Castiel falls silent, unsure of what to say. He only wants to wrap Dean in his arms and keep him there as long as he can, away from his father and bad memories.

“I don’t know, Cas,” Dean says finally, exhaling slowly. “What do you think?”

Castiel answers slowly. “I think…” He licks his lips. “I think you should sleep on it first, and then you’ll see. It came rather suddenly, you know, you should… You should give yourself some time.”

Dean nods. “Yeah.” Then a little more certainly: “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll talk to Sam tomorrow, see if he has something more to say.”

Castiel leans forward to kiss his jaw. “Don’t push yourself, okay?”

Dean nods again. “You wanna go to bed?”

“Yeah,” Castiel mutters and slowly stands up, stretching his arms. “I have philosophy majors tomorrow. They’re the worst.”

Dean chuckles and follows him, and Castiel feels something in his chest relaxing.

***

The night is chilly and fresh, the air almost sharp. The window of their bedroom is slightly ajar still, street lights gently poking through thin curtains.

Dean listens to slow, steady breathing of the man next to him and tries to will himself to sleep. He watches Castiel’s back moving slightly as he snores, wishing he could dream just as easily.

He finally gives up though, and stands up carefully as not to wake Castiel. He grabs the robe sitting on the chair in the corner and sneaks out of the room. He isn’t entirely sure what he is doing, where he is going, so his legs lead him to the kitchen. He opens the fridge and watches its contents for a long moment.

Dean thinks about reaching for the remains of their dinner, but truth be told, he got a bit squishy around his belly – the proof of his content and easy life that made him slow down, made all the pies and pizzas and late night snacks stick to him. He’s getting older too, he’s aware of that, and Castiel claims it doesn’t bother him at all – quite contrary, actually – but Dean still doesn’t want to forget himself that easily.

His eyes then land on two bottles of beer and he hates himself for thinking about taking one. That’s a thing his father used to do, drowning his worries in bottles, and the thought itself leaves unpleasant sting in Dean’s guts. So he closes the fridge and takes a glass of water, sitting for the table.

He thinks about Sam and the e-mail and the holiday that’s coming and he thinks of the worst and the best possibilities and how he’s going to survive through them.

“Hey.” He hears Castiel’s voice, still rough from sleep. “What are you doing here?”

He moves to sit next to Dean, but doesn’t turn on the light.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Dean answers, watching his eyes still squinting, his hair a mess.

“You’re thinking about your father,” Castiel says, and it’s not a question but Dean still nods.

“I don’t know what to do,” Dean confesses quietly. “I don’t really wanna go. But I don’t want to be that person, you know, someone who never forgives. I think, maybe, if he really got better… Maybe I could close that chapter forever, stay at peace.”

Castiel watches him carefully now, but doesn’t say anything.

Dean pushes his hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Cas.”

“Why don’t you go then?” he asks him carefully, reaching for his hand. “You don’t have to like it, but at least you will know. Whatever happens, you won’t have to wonder.”

Dean sighs. “But I’m afraid I already know what will happen. You… I told you almost everything, didn’t I? I told you how he was… He was so full of this rage, this hate, and I don’t wanna be like that, like him. He was… God, Cas, he could be horrible. And I don’t want to feel like that, but I think I still feel like I owe him something, and I know… I know I don’t, but.” He huffs. “Can you believe I’m still scared to bring you to meet him? I’m scared how he will react, you know… His son bringing home a man and all that…”

The moment Dean says it, he hates himself for it. “I’m not ashamed, Cas,” he says quickly. “I’m not…” He feels something stuck in his throat and he doesn’t know how to continue.

But Castiel, bless his soul, seems to understand, for he reaches with his hand to straighten the hair behind Dean’s ear. “I don’t have to come, Dean.”

“No,” Dean cuts in even before Cas finishes. He grabs both of his hands and squeezes. “If I’m going to go there, I’ll need you. I’ll want you there with me.”

Castiel gives him the most gentle of smiles and Dean kisses his palms. “It has nothing to do with you, Cas, I could never feel bad for being with you.”

“I know, Dean.”

“I want you to hear that, though.” He kisses the back of his hands, too. “But I don’t want to drag you into that, that’s all.”

Dean feels like he’s not saying enough, like he’s saying all the wrong things, and something presses heavy on his lungs.

“You don’t have to go either,” Castiel says softly. “We have a long weekend anyway, we could stay at home. Watch those god awful movies you like, bake a pie…”

Dean chuckles. “Are you trying to make me stay now?”

Castiel smiles and gently rubs Dean’s knuckles with his thumb. “I just want to give you a choice, that’s all.”

“I know,” Dean whispers and falls silent.

Castiel moves his chair that bit closer to him and reaches for him with one hand, pulling him down for a kiss. Dean goes lax in his arms and for a moment he seems to forget about everything else.

Sometimes, Dean thinks, nothing else might exist beside Castiel and his hands and he wouldn’t even care.

“I love you, you know?” Dean says, burying his head in Castiel’s shoulder.

Castiel hums. “Whatever you decide, okay?”

“Okay,” Dean murmurs and starts planning the trip.

***

_It is a hot, terrible day of September, one of those days when summer decides to let everyone know that it’s not quite done yet, not without a fight anyway._

_Dean feels sweat sticking in the crooks of his elbows, the smell of petrol sinking into his clothes. Bobby made him do some paperwork in the front, which wouldn’t be so bad if there was anything to keep him cool. A broken fan is trying to give its best in the corner, and failing spectacularly._

_Dean wipes sweat off his forehead and hopes not to die, when he hears loud steps entering the shop._

_“Hello,” a deep warm voice says and Dean looks up to see a handsome dark-haired man coming towards him._

_“Hi,” Dean says, standing up straight. “Can I help you?”_

_“Yes,” the man says, standing in front of him. “I would like to have my car fixed.”_

_Dean blinks. “Well, that’s… umm. What’s wrong with it?”_

_“My brother,” the man says, nodding._

_“I’m sorry, what?” Dean raises his eyebrows._

_“I borrowed it to my brother for the weekend.” He shrugs his shoulders. “It did not go well.”_

_Dean chuckles at that. “Well, let me look at it so I can at least estimate the damage.” He drops his pen down and follows the man outside._

_“It’s pretty bad,” he says and ‘bad’ doesn’t really cover it._

_It looks pretty much like someone has driven it straight through the forest, though the hen house, through the river. (Dean will much later find out that it wasn’t too far from the truth.)_

_“Holy shit,” Dean says and his customer nods his head in agreeing._

_“My brother said that there’s no point of me having it if I’m not going to use it, so apparently he decided to ruin it instead,” he says in a flat tone, and by now Dean’s pretty sure it’s his pissed off voice._

_“Well, listen dude,” Dean says honestly, “I don’t even know if it’s worth fixing it.”_

_The man sighs. “Could you at least try?”_

_“Yeah, sure,” Dean says. “If you really want to. But it’ll take, like, a month.”_

_“I have time,” the man replies. “There’s nowhere I need to go where I can’t get by foot.”_

_“Ah,” Dean says, and motions him to follow him back inside. “That’s why you’re not using it enough.”_

_The man smirks at that. “If you ask Lucifer, yes.”_

_“Your brother’s named Lucifer?” Dean exclaims, frowning, and the man laughs at him._

_“Luke, actually,” he explains. “It’s just a family nickname.”_

_“Oh.” Dean picks up his pen again. “You had me worried there for a minute. Anyway, look, it’ll be the best if you left us your contact and we’ll hit you up in a day or two to tell you the price and everything.”_

_“Sure,” the man nods. “The name’s Castiel.” He extends his hand for Dean to take it, and confuses him again._

_“I’m Dean,” he says, accepting the offered hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Cas.”_

 


	2. Come Down Drenched

Surprisingly enough, something about road calms him.

Maybe it’s because he spent most of his life there, but there is something comforting about the empty miles of highway, filled with all the same traffic signs and yellow lines. It’s late already and the sun has set down hours ago. Castiel sleeps soundly on the passenger’s seat, his head lulling slightly from one side to another with the movement of the car. (And oh, how Dean envies him for his ability to just crash down and sleep anywhere, to shut out the world in less than a minute.)

Castiel offered to drive, of course he did, and he tried to coax Dean into stopping somewhere and taking a break, but Dean refused. He was afraid that, if allowed even a second to think, he would turn back and never try to go there again.

So he keeps on driving.

***

_Dean asked him out when Castiel finally came to pick up his car._

_“Hey, listen,” Dean started, tips of his ears slowly turning red. “Would you maybe, umm, like to… I don’t know, grab a coffee or something?”_

_Castiel stood there dumbfounded, not entirely sure what was going on. “You mean, like a…?”_

_“A date, yeah,” Dean hurried to say, licking his lips, and Castiel didn’t believe his own ears._

_The mechanic has been one of the most gorgeous people he ever saw, and it wasn’t Castiel’s fault if he flirted with him almost unconsciously, playfully. Of course, Castiel didn’t believe Dean would be interested in him, this way of another, much less that he took his flirting seriously._

_“Oh,” he let out smartly, still staring at the pen in his hand._

_Dean looked away. “I mean, I might got it wrong- if I got it wrong, I’m sorry, man-,”_

_“Yeah,” Castiel managed to say, but then saw Dean’s face turning to definite disappointment, and hurried to explain himself. “I mean, no- I mean, you didn’t get it wrong, I just…” He felt his own cheeks burning now, and he paused to take a deep breath. “I mean, I’d like to, to grab a coffee or-,” he shrugged, “-or whatever you’d like.”_

_Dean’s face brightened up then. “That’s… That’s great! Can I get your number then, or?”_

_“Yes,” Castiel hurried to say this time, both of them completely dismissing the fact that Dean probably had his number written down somewhere between Bobby’s papers._

_And even then Castiel tried not to hope too much, not to give it more meaning than he should. But now, lying in his bed, his side pressed to Dean’s naked body, Castiel cannot help but feel anything but hope._

_“Did you always know you want to be a professor?” Dean asks him, gently scratching Castiel’s forearm._

_“More or less,” Castiel answers and tries to straighten Dean’s hair with his fingers. “I mean, I wanted to be a writer when I was a kid. But soon enough I discovered that I suck at writing.”_

_Dean chuckled. “I’m pretty sure you’re not that bad.”_

_“Oh believe me,” Castiel murmurs against his shoulder. “But umm, I decided that I’m not going to let it bring me down, you know? I still love literature, so English professor is the closest thing to writing. Besides,” he adds, “sometimes is more fun to talk about some other people’s words than trying to find your own.”_

_Dean hums in agreement, and gently kisses his hand._

_“What about you?” Castiel asks. “Have you always wanted to be a mechanic?”_

_Dean snorts. “Not at all. I wanted to be a firefighter. My, umm.” He pauses and looks away. “My mother died in fire when I was a kid, so I guess they were some kind of role models for me.” He smiles gently for a second, and then he looks down again. “But mechanic is a good thing, all things considered. If it hadn’t been for Bobby…”_

_Castiel watches him carefully. “Why do you say that? You’re smart, Dean, you could’ve been anything.”_

_Dean’s cheeks go red – they always do when Castiel compliments him for something – and one corner of his lips rises for a moment. “Well, I never liked to study, you know. I’d much rather get my hands on the stuff than read about them in books. Books are okay for reading stories, but when it comes to practical things…” He shrugs. “It makes more sense to open them up and take a look for yourself. Like I said, if it hadn’t been for Bobby, I might’ve not finished high school either.”_

_“I didn’t know you’ve lived with him for that long,” Castiel admits. “But he isn’t your dad, is he?”_

_“Well, that depends,” Dean says, shifting a bit so he can wrap his arms completely around Cas. “He’s been more of a dad to us than our dad. He took us in when shit went sideways.”_

_He falls quiet than, and Castiel says nothing, waiting to see if Dean’s ready to tell him that story just yet._

_Dean doesn’t look at his face, not once, but continues playing with his fingers. “Dad, umm,” he starts, swallowing. “He lost it a bit after our mom died, you know. He, umm. He wanted to get some revenge, even though it wasn’t anyone’s fault. He… started drinking. And at first it was under control, he was under control, but later he lost the house and we started moving around a lot. We were, umm, we were mostly staying in motels, and we…” Dean pauses, swallows, and Castiel can see tears forming in his eyes. He leans down and kisses Dean’s collarbone, his own heart breaking over the wonderful man in front of him._

_“Hell, we were just kids, Cas,” Dean finally manages to press out. “We were kids and he would’ve left us alone for days, weeks even. Sometimes we didn’t have money for food, and fuck, I don’t even know how Sam managed to turn out the way he did, because often enough I couldn’t find energy to go to school and study. And we changed schools a lot, too. Never stayed more than a month, you know._

_“And then, I think I was about 16, dad got into a car crash. Nobody died, dad ended up a few weeks in a hospital, with a few broken bones, so I guess he was lucky enough. And Bobby, he was his old friend, Bobby found out and he dropped by to visit us and he, umm. I guess he finally figured what was going on and he took us in. It was supposed to be only till dad’s out of the hospital, but he just picked up his stuff and left.” Dean laughs bitterly. “I guess this time we were at least in good hands. Not that he cared for that, anyway. So from then on Bobby took care of us, made sure we finished high school, found me a job, sent Sam to college and all that.” He wipes at his face now, and Castiel kisses his cheek, his neck, wants to kiss the tears away from Dean’s eyes, and the sadness out of his heart._

_Dean finally looks at him now, and sighs. He runs his hand through Castiel’s messy hair and smiles gently. “And I got to meet you too, didn’t I?”_

_Castiel chuckles. “Are you sure that’s a good luck?”_

_“Well, maybe not a good luck.” Dean shrugs. “Maybe it was your brother, maybe I should thank him.”_

_Castiel rolls his eyes. “I have a lot more stories about my brother that don’t include him crashing my car, you know?”_

_“Yeah?” Dean asks with a mischievous grin on his face. “Maybe you could tell me about that?” He leans down and kisses him then, slow and gentle._

_“Maybe later,” Castiel murmurs when they pull apart for a second._

_“Yeah,” Dean agrees, already reaching back for him. “Definitely later.”_

I would tell you everything, _Castiel thinks as he kisses down Dean’s chest_. I would take the moon from the sky if you only just blinked for it.

***

They’re woken up by the phone ringing somewhere in the room. Dean detangles himself from Castiel with a grunt and tries to reach for his pants without getting off of bed.

Castiel stays in bed, lying on his side, and listens to the sound of Dean moving around, tries to fall asleep again. He hears Dean’s low voice, still rough from sleep, murmuring into the phone once the ringing is finally stopped.

“No, it’s fine, we’re awake,” Dean lies. “When? ….Yeah, okay, I’ve got the address.” He pauses for a moment. “No, we’re good, I think we’ll try to get some more sleep, you know?” There’s another pause, just shorter this time. “Yeah, okay, see you there. Bye.”

He hangs up and Castiel can hear him sigh. He feels the bed moving under him, feels Dean pulling the cover, so he turns on his back.

“Was that Sam?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Dean answers. “He wanted to know if we’re fine and if we wanted to get some breakfast.”

Castiel hums. “You said no?”

“I said no.” Dean nods. “I want to be selfish, you know?”

Castiel snorts and turns on his side again to face him.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Cas,” Dean murmurs into the space between them and leans forward to kiss Cas on the nose.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Dean,” he almost whispers and reaches for him, pulling him closer.

Dean wraps his hands around him on impulse, and he might never admit it, but he loves those lazy mornings when it’s just the two of them, lying in bed together, and doing nothing. He likes the way Castiel’s voice is still rough and deeper than it is usually, the way he is still all soft and warm from sleep; he likes that he can wrap himself into Castiel’s heat and he likes gentle touches and soft kisses that don’t lead anywhere.

He rubs his nose against Castiel’s and pecks his lips.

Castiel tangles his fingers in Dean’s hair, and pulls him back into a gentle kiss. He pushes himself closer and presses his feet on Dean’s calves.

Dean winces. “Why are your feet always so cold in the morning?” he says, but he doesn’t pull back.

Castiel gently strokes his upper arms. “Are you okay?”

Dean nods his head and kisses Castiel’s neck.

“You’re tense,” Castiel comments and runs his hands down Dean’s chest. “Don’t try to deny it, I know you are.”

Dean sighs. “I’m nervous, that’s all. I don’t know what to expect.”

“What do you want to expect?”

Dean looks at him carefully. “I just want a closure, you know. I’m just thinking… Whatever happens, I want to be done with it. If it’s true and he’s really alright now, then I’ll be glad and I won’t have to deal with him anymore.”

“And if he isn’t?”

Dean breathes out. “Then I guess… Hell, I don’t know. I want to let him know that he doesn’t have anything to do in our lives.”

“We can still run away,” Castiel whispers after a long minute of silence, kissing his jaw. “We don’t even have to go home, you know, can drive around for a while.”

Dean chuckles. “You are a bad influence, Cas.”

“I’m just trying to get you to relax,” he replies, shrugging.

Dean pulls him even closer and buries his nose in Castiel’s neck, kissing him there gently. “I can think of better ways than that one.”

Castiel hums against his skin. “We do have some more time.”

“And honestly, they can wait,” Dean concludes, pulling the sheet off of their bodies.

***

The deal was that they would meet Sam and Jess on the address that John gave them, so they wait in the car while Dean drums his fingers against the steering wheel.

It’s an old apartment building in front of them, with broken entrance door, but otherwise completely fine. It must have been painted bright yellow once, but know the color seems dirty and darker. John wrote he lives on the first floor, but the building is not that high actually, and Castiel doesn’t even think it has an elevator.

Dean’s drumming is turning from rhythmical to downright annoying, and Castiel is ready to tell him to knock it off, when he finally sits still in the driver’s seat and says: “They’re here.”

Only then Castiel recognizes the white car (a new SUV – Dean wouldn’t stop teasing Sam for weeks after they bought it) parking just a few places away from them. He sends a quiet prayer up to whoever’s listening as Dean steps out of the car, and only then follows.

“Hey,” Sam yells cheerfully. “Did you wait for us long?”

“It’s his fault,” Jessica adds, stepping out of the vehicle. “I dried my hair and then he remembered that he should do his, too.”

Dean laughs and claps his brother’s shoulder while he tries to protest, about lies and perfectly dry hair. Jess approaches Castiel and gives him a warm hug.

“Honestly,” Castiel admits to her, “I thought I’m going to have to kill him.”

Jess snickers. “Which one of them?”

“Does it matter?” Castiel says, sighing dramatically.

“Do you have the apartment number?” Dean asks his brother, and Sam nods.

“Yeah, it’s on the first floor, thank god. I don’t want to climb all the way up that thing.” He looks at the building and makes a face.

“I think it’s alright,” Jessica says. “It’s just that you don’t like stairs.”

“No one likes stairs, Jess.”

The younger couple continues bickering as they head for the entrance, and Castiel notices Dean’s purposely dragging his legs.

“It’s going to be alright,” Castiel whispers, grabbing his hand.

Dean swallows and nods nervously. “Yeah. Yeah.”

Castiel can feel tension rolling off of Sam, too, and he can even see Jess squirming next to him as they ring the doorbell. Castiel takes a deep breath and waits.

A tall, dark-haired man opens the door for them and smiles. “Sam!” he says in a deep voice, reaching out and shaking Sam’s hand. “And who is this young lady? Your wife?”

Castiel can see similarities between him and the younger Winchesters. John is shorter than Sam (a lot of people is, actually) but there’s something about his facial features that remind Cas very much of the long-haired man standing in front of him – his nose and the color of his eyes. The thing John shares with his older son is different, though; it’s something about the way John holds himself, the nervous tension in his shoulders that is so much like Dean’s own. But Castiel remembers watching the scarce number of family photos they had at home, and he remembers Sam saying how Dean has always been so much more like his mother than anyone else.

“Soon to be wife, actually,” Sam says to his father, and reaches out to touch Jess’s back.

“I’m Jess, sir. Nice to meet you!” She holds out her hand for John. He gives her such a wide smile, and Castiel suddenly feels very much on edge.

“Oh, come on, I’m being rude, come in, come in!” John gestures widely, almost pulling them inside. He turns back and gives Dean the same warm smile. “Dean,” he says, reaching out for his hand. “I’m glad you came, son.”

Dean accepts his hand and shakes it, but Castiel still catches him wiping his palms on his trousers beforehand. “I’m glad, too,” he says, and something in his voice is not right.

John focuses on him now and Castiel doesn’t know how to read his expression.

“This is Cas,” Dean says and glances at him for support. “Castiel. He’s…” He swallows nervously. “He’s my husband.”

Castiel sees John’s eyes going wide, his eyebrows lifting up. He opens and closes his mouth, and Castiel doesn’t know what to think. “Nice to finally meet you, sir,” he says instead, and holds out his hand.

“Yeah,” John says suddenly, like he’s only now remembering where he is, and shakes his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect you to-,” He stops himself and pulls back. “Come in, come in, why are we all standing in the hallway?”

Dean pushes past John first and squeezes Castiel’s hand.

Castiel follows him inside, feeling a newfound heaviness in his stomach.

The apartment is fairly small, which isn’t unexpected. There are two doors in the small hallway, one obviously leading to the bathroom and one that is a conjoined living room and kitchen. Everything looks fairly tidy, though; the table in the kitchen part of the room is already set, the old couch placed in front of a small TV, and there’s a shelf with some pictures above it.

Dean comes closer to look at the pictures, while Jess compliments the apartment. One of the photos is showing Mary Winchester, sitting on some kind of a swing and smiling at the camera. Dean reaches out and touches it gently, but quickly looks at the other photo, the one showing three years old him holding baby Sam in his small arms, and grinning like he just got the newest toy.

“Where did you get these from?” Dean asks without looking away.

John looks at him and smiles. “I’ve always had them, son, always in my wallet.” He taps the pocket on his jeans, and Dean gives him a small careful smile.

John turns back to the younger couple and keeps talking. “I’m sorry the dinner is not much, really. I’m trying to bake a turkey though; I hope it’ll turn out alright.”

“I’m sure it will,” Jess says, smiling. “Did you invite someone else besides us?”

“No,” John says. “Who else do I have to invite, honestly?”

Jess shrugs. “I don’t know, I meant, maybe people from your recovery program?” She asks carefully. “You’ve spend quite some time with them, sir, I’m sure you made some friends.”

John shrugs and heads for the kitchen. “A week and a half is really not much of a time.”

Jess and Sam look at each other.

“A week and a half?” Sam repeats. “I don’t want to be offensive, dad, but… Don’t these programs last longer than that?”

“I wouldn’t know,” John answers, not looking at them really. “I left after a while, I mean, I didn’t really have anything to do there.”

Next to Castiel, Dean stands silent.

Sam laughs. “What do you mean?”

John shrugs again. “Those people there, I’m not like them, you know? Those were like, drug addicts and people who couldn’t stop drinking, you know. They were all so desperate, so weak, I couldn’t stand being around them for too long, honestly.”

There’s a moment of panicked silence, and Castiel can practically hear the alarms in their heads going off; he wants to gather everyone and get them as far away as possible, but he knows that it’s not his call.

“Jessica, could you perhaps come and help me with this?” John calls from the kitchen, and Jess gives Sam a nervous look.

“Of course, sir,” she replies and goes.

Dean looks at his brother and swallows.

***

The dinner is still kind of awkward though. John ignores Castiel most of the time, and Cas wishes he can say he’s pleased with that, but Dean is tense next to him all the time, and John doesn’t seem to notice. There are a lot of pauses and silences which no one quite knows how to fill. So Sam talks about his office, about some cases he worked on, and Jess tells some interesting story from hospital.

“So, wait,” John says after one long pause. “You a doctor?”

Jess smiles. “Oh no, sir, I’m just a nurse.”

“You’re not just a nurse,” he says. “You’re saving lives, Jessica, that is something.”

Jess blushes and looks away. “Well, thank you, sir, but…”

“No but’s,” John interrupts her, chewing on a toothpick. “Your job is amazing, kid.”

Castiel watches Dean pushing around the rest of his potatoes with his fork, not once raising his head to look at John. He presses his leg gently to Dean’s and hopes he stays calm.

“What about you, Dean?” John asks then. “Where are you working?”

Dean swallows. “I’m working with Bobby. Fixing cars, you know. Bobby has his own shop, don’t know if you know that.”

John nods his head, but doesn’t say anything.

“Actually, that’s how those two met,” Sam says, smiling, and Castiel knows he just wants to help, but he sees that John’s expression is not really approving one.

“You’re fixing cars, too?” John asks, not really looking at Cas.

“No, sir,” he hurries to answer. “I only had my car broken.”

John nods again. “So what do you do?”

“I’m an English professor,” Castiel answers and sips his juice so he doesn’t have to say anything more.

“He teaches at a local college,” Dean says, shifting next to him, almost surprising him.

“Well,” John says, and Castiel can practically feel what he doesn’t say. It’s not a manly job. It’s the job John almost expected him to do. “Does it pay well at least?”

“I think so, sir,” Castiel says, because he can see Dean’s jaw tightening.

They’re all looking at the plates and no one is speaking for several long minutes, and Castiel just wants to run away. He wants to get out of the room, get out of John’s apartment, doesn’t want to hear his tone of voice when he regards his sons.

Next to Castiel, Jess squirms in her seat and Castiel once again feels strong empathy for her.

“So,” she starts, and Castiel can tell she is unsure. “How is the room going, Cas?”

Dean tenses next to him, and Castiel wants to be mad at him for it, but can’t – he knows Dean just isn’t sure he wants to share that information with his father yet.

“It’s going pretty well, actually,” Castiel answers. “I mean, we’ve got most of the furniture, you know. We just can’t decide about the color.”

“Oh?” Jess says, and she sounds honestly interested. “How come?”

“Well, umm, Dean says that green is more soothing, that we should maybe go with the lighter shade of it.” Castiel shrugs. “But I prefer yellow. I think it’s more… happy.”

John snorts at the other side of the table. “Are you redecorating?”

Castiel looks at him for a long moment, waiting for Dean to say something. “We’re, umm. We’re actually adopting, sir, so we’ve been adjusting the room in our house.”

John’s eyes go wide again. “You’re adopting? Wow. Are you sure you will be able to afford it?”

“Of course, sir-,” Castiel starts speaking when Dean cuts him off.

“Alright, what exactly is your problem here?” He sounds angry and bitter, and for a minute everyone just stills and looks at him.

“I don’t have a problem,” John answers, trying to sound calm and failing.

“Yeah, you obviously do.” Dean stares at him. “Is it because we’re not rich and successful like you hoped? Is it because we’re not miserable without you? Is it because I’m married to a guy?”

“Dean-,” Sam tries to interrupt, but Dean doesn’t let him

“No, come on, tell us so we can deal with it.” He clenches his fist. “Are you in debt again, is that why you called us? So you’re disappointed that we might not be able to give you how much you need?”

John slams his fist on the table and everyone jumps. “How dare you speak to me like that, boy?” he grits through his teeth.

Dean clenches his jaw. “Why did you invite us, exactly?”

John doesn’t answer but continues glaring at him.

“Because, don’t get me wrong, but since the moment you contacted us, you’ve been lying. That shit about you being in a recovery program?”

“That is not a lie!” John yells.

“Maybe not in your category,” Dean continues. “You spending a week there, that is a joke!”

“You will not-,” John stands up now and points his finger at Dean. “You will not speak to me like that!”

Dean jumps at his feet, too, and Sam stands up and tries to interrupt them again, tries to get them to calm down.

“You’ve been insulting me and Cas since we came here,” Dean spits. “I honestly do not know why did you call us, and frankly, I don’t even damn know why we came.”

John runs his hand through his hair. “And how am I supposed to react, Dean? How am I supposed to react to the fact that my son is…” He trails off again, turns around abruptly and heads for the fridge.

“Yeah,” Dean lets out and suddenly he just sounds tired and lost. “I’m sorry that I didn’t turn out exactly the way you hoped. But then again,” he shrugs, “it’s not really that my father was a decent role model.”

John’s back tenses, but he doesn’t turn around. Sam swallows and Jess grabs his hand, watching the men around her with fear in her eyes. Castiel also stands still, seemingly unable to move.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean says quietly. “Let’s go.”

He’s out of the door before anyone can react, and Castiel only pauses to say a quick “I’ll call you” to Sam and Jess.

Castiel runs after Dean, who doesn’t slow down, doesn’t turn around even once. “Dean!” he yells after him. “Dean, hold on!”

He reaches him only when he pauses down by the car, probably only waiting for Castiel to get in.

“Dean.” Castiel tries to make his voice sound calm. He reaches for him, but stops midway. “Dean, please, just -,”

“Just what, Cas?” Dean snaps at him. “Have you been there, Cas? Have you seen him? Have you _heard_ him?”

“I know, Dean, but maybe you shouldn’t-,”

“What, Cas? Stand up for myself? Get so angry? What?!” He kicks a tire on his car. “Shouldn’t have come here, that’s what.”

It’s getting dark already, Castiel notices, the street lights are turning on. He didn’t get a chance to put on his coat, so right now he’s clenching both his and Dean’s jacket in his hands. He is wearing only a sweater and he can already feel coldness slipping into his bones, can see Dean’s breath.

“Come on,” Dean says more quietly now. “Let’s go.”

The ride back to the motel is tense and quiet, but as they drive into a parking lot, Dean reaches for Castiel’s hand and squeezes it.

“I know,” Castiel says quietly. “It’ll be fine.”


	3. Which Part is The Path

It’s one a.m. when Dean’s phone rings, and it’s not like Castiel really slept but it still makes him jump. He feels the movement besides himself and sees Dean sitting up.

Castiel listens to Dean’s tired voice, hears his angry replies, and he knows what’s up before Dean hangs up, and pushes at his thigh.

“C’mon, Cas, get up.” His voice is still rough and angry, and he throws away the covers to start getting up.

“What happened?” Castiel asks even though he knows the answer; he just can stand the rustling of their clothes in this kind of silence.

“Dad went out after we left and hasn’t come back yet.” Dean pulls his pants up and starts looking for his keys. “Sam and Jess thought he might come home drunk, but he’s not showing up so they’re worried. I told them to stay put in case he does show up, we’re gonna go and look for him.”

He grabs the keys and waits by the door until Castiel pulls on a clean T-shirt.

They’re driving around town before Castiel even knows it, and he hates the way Dean clutches the steering wheel.

“Where are we going to look?” he asks to break the silence again.

Dean is quiet for a long minute. “I’m thinking some bar close to his place, but like, a lower place, you know, perhaps hidden from the sight. He won’t get in if he can’t get drunk and look for trouble, you know.” He clenches his teeth. “And you just look around, okay, if you see him lying somewhere passed out.”

Castiel nods shortly and looks outside. He wordlessly reaches for Dean and squeezes his shoulder. He hears Dean breathe out and his grip relaxes a bit.

They drive around for a while and Castiel can tell that Dean is becoming agitated and nervous. And Castiel is angry, mostly at John, for inviting them there, for lying and hurting his sons in all these ways.

“Hold on,” Dean says suddenly and pulls up; Castiel jerks forward in his seat. It takes Castiel a minute to see the dusty window, with old neon lights flickering to form only half of the name of the bar in front of them.

Castiel wordlessly undoes his seat belt and hurries to follow Dean outside of the car. The interior of the bar seems to be dark and smoky and Castiel doesn’t really want to go inside, but he still goes.

He enters after Dean, who goes in seemingly sure of what he’s doing, and it takes him a while until he spots John. First he sees bunch of huge guys playing pool, two brown-haired girls drinking shots and a young couple making out in the corner.

Dean heads for the bar and only then does Castiel spot the older Winchester, sitting hunched and tired-looking and drinking his probably fiftieth drink.

“Hey dad,” Dean says almost carefully as he approaches him. “Where have you been?”

John doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even acknowledge his son, but chugs the drink in his hand and gives another twenty dollar bill to the barmaid.

“Sam’s been worried, dad,” Dean tries again. “He’s waiting for us back at your place.”

John sways gently from one side to the other, and by now it’s pretty obvious that it’s because he’s so drunk he cannot keep his balance. He smells like alcohol and Castiel struggles not to make a face.

“C’mon, dad,” Dean says, reaching out for him gingerly. “We should head back, okay?”

John turns his head to finally look at his son; his eyes are bloody and red, his look unfocused. He lets out a low, mirthless laugh. “Look who came here.” He turns to say that to the barmaid. “Look who came here. He’s…” He slurs his words and hiccups. “He’s supposed to be my son, you know.”

“Dad, come on,” Dean lets out almost desperately, and Castiel feels so useless, so futile, and he wants to punch John in his face.

“You know what he did?” John continues talking to the waitress, who gives Dean an alarming, worried look.

“I got clean,” John says vigorously. “I got clean for him, and, and- and for his brother, you know… And what does he do? He makes me drink again.”

“Dad, come on,” Dean repeats and his voice breaks. “Come on, let’s go back.” He reaches for John’s arm, but John pulls back.

“No,” John murmurs. “I’m staying here. And I’m having another drink.”

Dean opens his mouth, but this time the waitress jumps in. “I’m sorry, sir, but we cannot serve you anymore,” she says firmly, and Castiel gives her a thankful look.

“You see?” John turns back to Dean now. “I can’t even drink properly because of you.”

“Alright, dad, we’re going back now,” Dean says once again, more firmly, and reaches for John, who doesn’t resist this time.

“Cas, can you help me out a bit?” Dean asks, and Castiel nods, moving to stand on John’s other side.

Castiel reaches for John’s arm but the older man jerks back, pulling back from him.

“Hey!” he yells and Castiel flinches. “Don’t you touch me, you fucking-,”

“Hey!” It’s Dean who yells this time, and he stands between the two of them before Castiel can react. “Watch your language, old man,” Dean says and he sounds pissed off now. “That’s my husband, alright? And you’re gonna show him some respect.”

John gives him a drunk, loop-sided grin. “And what are you going to do about it, huh, kid?” He tries to get up, but trips and almost falls. “What…” he slurs, and the rest of his words turn into a cluster that doesn’t make any sense.

Dean grabs his upper arm and John doesn’t react anymore, doesn’t seem to notice that Dean is holding him at all.

“Cas, please,” Dean says again, and Castiel takes other John’s arm while the man is busy trying to form a sentence.

“C’mon,” Dean grunts, pulling him up. “Here we go.”

And it’s a struggle, dragging John to the car more than carrying him, as he keeps switching between curses and incomprehensible babbling.

“Lay him down so he doesn’t puke on himself,” Dean instructs and Castiel listens.

The short ride to John’s apartment is tense and Castiel feels lost, unsure of what to do. He looks at Dean’s profile, at his clenched jaw and tired eyes, and he wishes they never even came here in the first place.

Sam hurries out as soon as he hears the car and curses loudly before coming to help Dean carry their father.

“For Christ’s sake,” Sam grunts, and Castiel has never heard him that angry before. “I think he pissed himself.”

Jess is standing in the doorway, but she doesn’t say anything. Castiel looks at her and thinks how she looks exactly how he feels. Her eyes are tired and sad, and he thinks that she wants to reach for Sam, too, to shelter him away and tell John to go to hell.

“Maybe we should undress him,” she says, and Castiel can tell she’s switching to her nurse mood. “Just get him to bed, okay?” She follows right after them and Castiel loves her for that.

Dean storms out of the room as soon John is on bed, and lets them deal with it. Jess is already telling Sam what they should do, and Castiel stands there for a minute. He thinks about how many times they’ve all seen this – Jess in hospital, and Dean and Sam in person – and his heart aches.

He finds Dean in the living room, pacing. He can’t see his face, but he knows Dean is angry and disappointed, and Castiel isn’t sure what to do.

“Fuck,” Dean yells and kicks the small table. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.” Every time he says it he gives another kick, continues until it’s just kicking, until he grabs the table and knocks it over.

He starts pacing up and down the room again, and Castiel has never seen him so angry before, so desperate, so in pain.

“Fuck him,” Dean says and his tone is still raised, still hurtful. “Fuck him and what he thinks. He’s never been there anyway, what could he know? What could he know about me? About Sam, or you? What could he-,” he cuts off as he grabs the picture of him and Sam of the shelf and throws it against the wall.

But then he grabs the photo of Mary smiling and stops. He breathes heavily, his shoulders rising and falling in a quick rhythm, and his head drops.

“Dean,” Castiel whispers and rushes to stand at his side. He reaches out and squeezes Dean’s shoulder.

Dean’s fingers caress the picture gently, carefully. “Why doesn’t he want us?” he asks quietly, and Castiel knows that’s the question he doesn’t expect an answer to. At least not from him.

“What have I done so wrong…” Dean continues. “Am I so damn… so damn poisoned that my own father can’t stand me?”

“No, Dean,” Castiel hurries to say, and he can feel tears forming at the back of his throat but he just swallows them down. “Dean, look at me.” He reaches with both of his hands now, reaches for Dean’s hands, for his face, for anything he can touch.

And Dean lets them pull him close, lets him put his fingers on his cheeks and turn him around.

Castiel’s eyes are full of tears and determination as they look back into the green ones, and his voice is firm and almost soothing.

“You are a great man, Dean Winchester.” He doesn’t let go of his face, keeping him there, keeping him grounded and safe. “You are an amazing husband, and the best friend I’ve ever had, and you’re going to be the most wonderful father. And you are ten times better man than your father could ever hope to be.”

Tears slide down Dean’s cheeks and he doesn’t wipe them away.

“I’m so tired, Cas,” he whispers, and Castiel wipes them away for him. “I’m just so very tired.”

***

They do go back to the motel, but Dean doesn’t get any sleep. And neither does Castiel; Dean knows he pretends so he can give Dean some time to think, but he’s not snoring or pulling the sheets too hard, so Dean knows he is awake. Or at least in that half-slumber, right on the edge of falling asleep, when you’re tired but your brain won’t stop working.

He thinks about what he will do next – what he is supposed to do and what he wants to.

It’s still early morning when Dean finally decides to get up. He takes a shower and changes his clothes.

When he gets out of the bathroom, Cas is sitting in the bed. His eyes are tired and bloody, his hair a mess, and god, Dean’s never been more grateful for anyone else in his entire life.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks in voice hoarse from not really sleeping.

“No,” Dean answers slowly. “I have to do this on my own.”

Castiel nods silently and Dean leans down to kiss him.

“Sam will meet me there so you don’t have to worry.” He kisses his forehead before standing straight again. “Just get some sleep, okay? I’ve been thinking, maybe we could go right after lunch, you know.”

Castiel just nods sleepily again. “Drive safely, okay?”

***

He pulls up in front of John’s place and sees that Sam is already waiting for him with two cups of coffee.

“How’s Jess?” Dean asks when he gets out of the car.

“Asleep,” Sam answers. “Cas?”

Dean takes one of the coffees and nods. “Same.”

They stand there in silence for a while before Sam speaks again.

“You think he will be up?”

Dean shrugs. “I don’t particularly care.”

Surprisingly though, John is awake when they get in. The so called living room is still a mess, and the apartment stinks. John is standing in the kitchen, with a cup of something in his hands; his eyes are bloody and swollen, his face still red.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he says as soon as they enter. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Well, too bad,” Dean says firmly, but doesn’t really look at him. “’Cause we’re not leaving yet, so you’re going to hear it anyway.”

John clenches his teeth but doesn’t say anything else. He watches as his sons take a seat for the old table and waits.

“We talked,” Sam starts slowly, calmly, “after everything that happened yesterday. And we came to a conclusion.”

“You lied to us, dad,” Dean says, and he sounds more calm than he feels. “Frankly, I don’t even know why. Were you going to ask for money, or what? Because I don’t really think you’re ready to be a fully functioning member of the family.”

Dean expects him to speak up, to yell, even to throw a punch, but John just stays still, not looking at either of them.

“You wrote us that you’d been in recovery program, you told us that you did recover,” Sam continues. “And you really went there, but you didn’t exactly stay, did you? I mean, you said it yourself. And that’s just the lie we caught you in.”

“It wasn’t like that,” John says now, angrily. “Those people there, they were goddamn no-use of alcoholics who-,”

“And you are not an alcoholic?” Sam cuts him off, obviously more upset now. “You didn’t drink till you passed out last night? Didn’t call us names, didn’t try to hit us?” He huffs and leans into his chair. “Look, I don’t know who you’re trying to fool, but you’re not really succeeding. If you had asked for help, if you had admitted you have a problem, we would be here to help you.”

John falls silent again, and Dean doesn’t know what to think.

“You still can,” Sam continues. “If you do decide that you want our help, or any help at all… I will leave you my business card and you feel free to call me. But we will not let you do this again, alright? You cannot just show up after that many years and continue with the same bullshit.”

“Here’s the thing,” Dean says, and he looks more at Sam than at their father. “Both Sam and I have stable lives, good jobs. We’re both starting a family, you know? And of course, if you want to, you can be part of it, too. But we will not let you endanger our kids, you understand? We don’t want our kids to go through what we went through. We don’t want them to see their grandfather passed out drunk, yelling slurs at them. No. Alright? We will not let that happen.”

Sam looks straight at him when he finishes Dean’s thought: “So you either get your shit together, or you don’t come near our family ever again. Is that clear?”

Sam starts getting up and Dean follows his suit. He really does take out his wallet and digs out one of his business cards.

“You have nothing to say?” he asks, but John stays quiet, doesn’t even look at them.

It’s only once they’re outside the building that Dean finally feels like he can breathe in again.

“When are you guys leaving?” Sam asks him, his jaw still clenched.

“After lunch,” Dean says. “I’m gonna let Castiel get some sleep first, might need him to drive later.”

Sam nods. “Good. We’ll probably do that, too.”

There’s a long moment of silence before Sam speaks again. “I feel weird,” he says. “Don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “Weird doesn’t even begin to cover it, man.”

“I really hope he’ll be fine,” Sam says. “But I’m glad it’s over with. At least now we have some kind of a closure, you know?”

Dean nods his head. “Yeah,” he mutters. “I know what you mean, kiddo.”

***

_One time, Castiel gets upset, and Dean knows he’s responsible but his pride won’t let him admit it._

_But Castiel is upset and it automatically makes Dean feel on edge._

_“I don’t get it, Cas,” he almost yells. “How is that my fault, huh?”_

_Castiel won’t look at him, and that doesn’t happen a lot. “She was flirting with you and you let her.”_

_Dean huffs. “And what was I supposed to do, huh? Tell her to fuck off? Call her names? Kick her in the face? What, Castiel? People flirt, it happens, I don’t get how-”_

_“You should have acknowledged me!” Castiel turns back to look at him now, and Dean would perhaps rather he didn’t. “People flirt, Dean, yes, but when people are in relationship they do not flirt back.”_

_Dean grits his teeth in anger, but he still isn’t sure why exactly he is mad._

_“But maybe that’s it, isn’t it?” Castiel’s eyes keep searching Dean’s face, and Dean briefly wonders what he is finding there. “Maybe we’re not… Maybe I’m reading this wrong.”_

_Dean’s instinctual response is to get even madder, and he knows it does him no good. “What the hell are you talking about now?”_

_“Maybe you don’t want to be with me, Dean, but then you should’ve- you should just tell me to my face, I’m not going to- I can handle it, you know? It’s not-”_

_Dean runs his hand across his face. “What the fuck are you saying, Cas? Where did you get that idea?”_

_Castiel exhales and suddenly he looks so very tired. “I don’t know, Dean, but you liking me seemed unlikely in the very beginning. And if that’s true, if that’s how you feel, that’s fine, you know? You shouldn’t-”_

_“No, that’s- That’s bull.” Dean sighs and he wants to reach for Castiel now but stays still. “Where’s that coming from, Cas?”_

_“I always acknowledge you, Dean,” Castiel says in a hushed voice. “I admit, people don’t flirt with me as often, but whenever they do, I acknowledge you. If you’re not around, I let them down gently. If you’re with me, I always reach for you, Dean. I always introduce you, I always let them know that I’m-” He cuts off again and looks away. “But maybe it’s me who had everything wrong from the start.”_

_“Cas, c’mon.” Dean reaches for him this time, but Castiel takes a step back. “Of course I wanna be with you, Cas.”_

_“Then what’s the matter, Dean?” Castiel says, crossing his arms in front of him as if to protect himself from whatever Dean’s going to say. “Am I not enough, is that it? Is it because I’m a guy that you keep flirting with girls? Or do you just want an open kind of relationship?” He tilts his head to the side a little. “Because the last option we can discuss, but…” He swallows. “But I don’t think it’s fair to me, Dean, to keep leading me on if you don’t really want to be with me.”_

_“It’s not like that, Cas, please.” Dean squirms in one place, his anger now rapidly being replaced with fear. “I’m sorry, Cas, please. Look, I’m sorry, I really am.” He pushes his hand through his hair. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have… I should’ve let them know that I’m with you. Because I want to be with you, Cas, only with you, I promise.”_

_Castiel is quiet for a very long time, still not looking at him, and Dean is scared._

_“I think,” he finally speaks slowly. “I think you should sleep at home tonight,” he says and Dean feels his heart sink. “Sleep on it and we’ll talk in the morning if you still want to.”_

_Dean swallows and nods his head. He feels as if he has just been hit in his chest, and it’s getting harder to breathe. But he still does as Cas says and heads for the door._

_“Drive safe, okay?” Castiel says to him before he leaves and Dean almost breaks down._

_It is quite understandable that Dean doesn’t sleep that night, and Bobby stays away from him as long as he can._

_But he also doesn’t waste much time._

_He knows Cas is usually awake by eight in the morning so he rushes back to him as soon as the old clock in Bobby’s living room shows half past nine. He doesn’t wait for the elevator and climbs – runs up – the stairs in Castiel’s building, only to be surprised by the locked door and an empty apartment._

_It’s Saturday, Dean remembers._

_It’s Saturday and that means Castiel went down to the local farmer’s market, and is probably going to come back with fresh vegetables and jars of honey. If it has been a normal date night, Dean would help him carry the bags, grunting the whole way home only to be rewarded with a kiss on his cheek._

_Dean doesn’t know what he was thinking, doesn’t know why he got so mad the night before. He sits in front of Castiel’s door and waits._

_He waits for about an hour before he hears the elevator ding and Cas finally – finally – steps out of it._

_Dean stands up and as Castiel looks at him a fragile smile on his lips fades away. Something clenches in Dean’s chest; he is so used to Castiel’s smile growing when his eyes land on Dean, and this is a hurtful twist that Dean didn’t expect or want._

_“Hi,” he says, probably because it’s the stupidest fucking thing to say, and he doesn’t know where to start._

_“Hello, Dean,” Castiel greets him as he moves to unlock the door. Dean wants to reach for him, wants to take the bags out of his hands, straighten the bowed line of his spine, but if Castiel doesn’t want Dean to touch him, Dean will stay away._

_He follows Castiel inside and watches as he puts the bags on his small kitchen counter._

_“I’m really sorry, Cas,” he whispers from the doorway, because he’s too afraid to raise his voice again._

_“I know, Dean,” Castiel says and starts methodically taking his vegetables out of the bags._

_“I was an ass,” Dean continues. “I really was, and I’m really sorry. I do want to be with you, Cas, that’s not something I needed to think about.”_

_“Then what was it?” Castiel asks him without raising his head._

_“W-what?” Dean stutters._

_Castiel folds one of the empty bags and looks at him. “What was it that you needed to think about? That you perhaps still need. Because something is bothering you, Dean, don’t try to deny it.”_

_Dean doesn’t dare to look away, doesn’t dare to say anything, to move._

_Castiel just sighs. “Dean,” he starts almost gently. “I honestly don’t know what this is about, but I can tell that something is wrong. You’ve been acting strange lately, and I- I don’t know how to fix this.” He lets his hands fall at his side. “Perhaps you think it’s better if you keep things to yourself, but you’re not doing us a favor. You are obviously distressed, and it makes me feel… bad.”_

_Dean rubs the back of his neck but doesn’t have anything to say in his own defense. He knows Castiel is right – Castiel is almost always right when it comes to him – but everything is still so new and fragile and Dean knows he’s going to ruin it._

_Castiel’s shoulders fall. “If you want to deal with it on your own, that is fine. But if you decide to tell me… I’d rather listen, Dean.” He then turns around and continues putting his stuff away._

_Dean watches his back for a long couple of minutes, watches how his muscles move when he reaches to put new jars of honey on the highest shelf._

_“I’m scared,” Dean says and Castiel pauses. “I know it’s stupid, but that’s the truth, okay?”_

_“What are you afraid of?” Castiel turns around to look at him._

_“I don’t know.” Dean’s eyes wander from the jars to the empty bags on the table, to the small window in the corner. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a relationship for this long, you know. I mean, there was that one time, but it wasn’t…” He trails off, waves his hand. “It’s not important. The important thing is, I- I like you. I more than like you, and you…”_

_He rubs his hand across his face and sighs. “Shit, Cas, you really are something, you know? You are so different than me, you are so smart, man. So I keep thinking, you know, you’re gonna go out there and do some good things, I know you will, and I’m scared you’re gonna leave me behind._

_“We’ve been together for quite some time, you know, and I don’t know how you still didn’t get bored of me, and I think I keep waiting for you to get bored, and I don’t really know what I’m gonna do then, Cas. Shit.” Dean chuckles unhappily and hides his face in his hand. “I can’t even say this right, how can I expect you to…”_

_Castiel moves to him slowly, gently taking his hands and prying them away from his face._

_“Dean,” he says gently, and Dean has no choice but to look at him. “I’m scared, too.”_

_Dean waits for him to laugh, to crack up, to mock him. It doesn’t happen._

_“Look, Dean, no one can promise forever. No one can promise we won’t fall apart eventually. But I can promise you that, right now, I do not have any intention of letting you go.” He searches Dean’s eyes for a moment before he continues. “I want to stay, Dean, for as long as you’ll have me. I understand that you’re scared, and I promise you I am, too, but it does us no good to let that fear overpower us.”_

_Dean nods his head and kisses the palms of Castiel’s hands. “I want to stay, too,” he whispers. “God, Cas, I want you to stay.”_

_Castiel nods and kisses him ever so gently._

_“We can fix this, Cas, can’t we?” Dean says because he’s still not sure he’s out of woods yet._

_“It’s not broken, Dean.” Castiel squeezes his fingers. “It never really was.”_


	4. Which Part is The Happiness

_Dean moves in with Castiel after it becomes simply a logical thing to do; after they start spending so much time at Castiel’s place that Dean’s stuff is already taking up half of the space. It’s a gradual thing, really, and they decide to make it official in that much that Dean just brings a box of his last things from Bobby’s. The apartment is small, probably too small for two grown-ass men, and they’re going to find something more soon, but Castiel’s apartment works for now._

_Castiel discovers some more things about Dean during those days, though. He learns that, for example, Dean is a morning person, no matter where or when he wakes up. He is always ready to work, feels the need to move, and is generally pretty happy in the morning. Castiel, on the other hand, is most definitely not._

_Dean also likes to sing a lot, and he can sing beautifully when he’s not trying to be funny, and he still gets embarrassed when he catches Cas listening to him. But he still likes to sing from the top of his lungs while he’s doing chores (“Okay, Cas, listen man, I know I just moved in, but if you won’t sing Bohemian Rhapsody with me every time, we’re over. I mean it, we’ll break up and it’s gonna be your fault and Bobby will be so mad at you for sending me back...”) and he likes to cook and he hates to shave (but he also hates when he has a beard, so there’s no real compromise for that) and he likes to wake up Castiel on Sunday mornings just so they can stay awake in bed for a little longer._

_It feels good though, to have Dean by his side all the time now, and Castiel doesn’t want to change him one bit. He starts falling into this almost weird rhythm with his partner and it feels comforting._

_But Castiel still wakes up one morning and realizes he’s going to be late. He rushes through brushing his teeth and putting on some clean clothes, only to find Dean standing in the kitchen and making breakfast. He’s singing some happy song under his breath, swaying from side from side with his imaginary rhythm, and waving with spatula in his hand._

_He turns around when Castiel walks into the room, and grins. “Good morning, babe,” he says cheerfully. “I’m making you breakfast.”_

_He sounds so proud of himself, seems so happy and content in their little kitchen that it feels like kicking a puppy when Castiel says he has to go. “I’ll be late, Dean, I’m so sorry.”_

_“Oh, come on, Cas.” And yeah, he sounds a bit disappointed. “I made you an omelet.” His lips turn into a grin again as he picks up the pan to show it to Cas. “I promise you, babe, it’s egg-celent!”_

_Castiel lets out a surprised laugh at the stupid joke and watches Dean’s shoulders shaking, a satisfied smirk on his face._

_And it’s stupid, it’s silly, but it’s that moment when Castiel suddenly feels so overcome with his love for the tall man in front of him, he feels like he’s going to explode. He takes a few long steps over the tiled floor and pulls Dean down for a kiss._

_“I love you,” he breathes when they part, sees a surprised look on Dean’s face, and then pulls him back in, afraid Dean will somehow reject his feelings._

_But Dean soothes down his worries with gentle hands on his sides, slows down their kiss and pulls Castiel even closer. “I know,” he whispers and smirks, before pecking Castiel once more on his lips. “I love you too.”_

_“I’m really going to be late,” Castiel says because he doesn’t really have anything else to say, and steals one more kiss before he hurries out._

***

Her name is Gracie and she is the most beautiful person Dean has ever seen. When Castiel takes her into his arms for the first time, Dean feels tears sliding down his cheeks and doesn’t even bother wiping them away. She looks so tiny and fragile in Castiel’s big hands, Dean is almost afraid to hold her.

“She’s tough, you know?” Castiel says, before carefully handing her over to Dean. “Stronger than she looks.”

“Hey, Gracie,” he whispers to her gently, once she is in his arms. She opens her big brown eyes and looks up at him with curiosity. “We’re going home, the three of us, you know?”

To be perfectly honest, first couple of days is just a blur for Dean – he’s constantly thinking, listening so he doesn’t miss her cry, checks on her even when Cas reassures him she’s fine – but it’s a sweet struggle that he wouldn’t change for the world. Not when there are peaceful moments filled with so much love that Dean can barely handle it. He lies down with Gracie asleep on his chest, and Castiel sneaks into the bed too, pressing himself to Dean’s side and laying his big hand on Gracie’s little back. Dean has never felt more safe than in those very moments they share, and he feels like he’s about to burst.

But then there are also moments when their house is full, with Sam and Jess, Bobby and Ellen, sometimes Jo drops by, too, and sometimes Dean feels the need to hide from all of them, which doesn’t make much sense to him, but he can’t help but feel that way. It’s like he feels endangered and he knows it’s illogical, he knows his family loves them – and oh, how much he loves them – but he feels like if he gets that much happiness at once, his safe bubble is going to burst and he will be left alone again, lost and uneasy. He lies awake at night sometimes and listens to Castiel’s breathing, listens even more carefully for any sound Grace might make.

Every night after they feed her and bathe her, Castiel kisses Dean’s cheek and tells him not to worry. Though Castiel is somewhat nervous, too. He also sometimes jumps awake at night when sleep comes down on him too hard, and checks the thermometer at least twice before leaving her room. He buys more diapers than they actually need, and even more baby food ( _in case she doesn’t like the taste_ , he says).

But even though Dean doesn’t trust himself that much, he trusts Cas. He believes Castiel when he says that they _are_ good parents and will not miss Gracie’s cry. (She is such a good baby, Dean thinks, she hardly ever cries at all.)

But he still panics when he wakes up one night and finds Castiel’s side of the bed empty. He feels his chest squeezing, his heart beating faster, but then he looks around the room and hears Castiel’s soothing voice coming from baby monitor. Dean finally exhales.

He still stands up and heads for Gracie’s room. (They painted it yellow after all, because Castiel liked the color and Dean just preferred to see Castiel happy.)

Dean opens the door and the breath catches in his throat for an entirely different reason now.

Cas only turned on the lamps, so it’s not too bright in the room, and he is standing next to Gracie’s crib, holding her in his arms. He sings something to her in a low, quiet voice, swinging gently, and she keeps grabbing at his face sleepily. Castiel just keeps smiling at her and kissing her chubby little hands.

Dean leans on the doorframe and keeps watching the gentle scene in front of him; _this is mine they are mine_ , he keeps thinking, _I get to have this, this quirky family of ours_.

Castiel turns to him, and smiles. “What are you doing up?”

“You weren’t there so I wake up,” Dean answers.

Castiel smiles even wider and closes his eyes when Gracie tries to inspect one of them more closely.

“Come here,” Castiel says, “we’re trying to sing a lullaby.”

Dean smirks. “You both seem quite awake to me.”

“Maybe we’ll have more luck with you,” Castiel replies, and continues swinging them both gently.

Dean approaches them and slowly wraps his arms around both of them, first kissing top of Gracie’s head and then leaning forward to kiss Castiel’s cheek, too.

His husband closes his eyes and leans into him, while Grace tries to turn in his arms to get a closer look at Dean. She gives him dopey smile, and Dean can’t help but laugh. He kisses her cheek, and Castiel moves so that he can lean into Dean completely.

It’s one of more peaceful moments they spent together, and Dean feels so full and content, he doesn’t want it to end.

Strangely enough, his mind wanders back to John, the one they’ve seen for Thanksgiving and the one he was before Mary’s death.

“Do you think,” Dean starts, “that he is alright?”

Castiel exhales slowly, and Dean knows he understands. “I hope he is.” He sounds honest, and Dean loves him for that.

Dean kisses his forehead. “I hope so, too.”

Dean thinks about his father, about himself now being a father, he thinks about Sam and Jess, he thinks about Cas and Gracie, and he doesn’t feel scared anymore. He thinks about the small home they’ve made, and he feels grateful.

Dean closes his eyes and lets Castiel’s voice lulls him back to sleepiness.

***

_Castiel is sitting with one of his legs curled underneath him, and the kitchen table is covered with papers. He chews the end of his pencil and tries to straighten the paper on which he keeps writing notes that don’t make sense._

_Dean watches him silently before moving to sit down next to him. Castiel doesn’t even notice him properly, so Dean uses the chance to lean forward and kiss his shoulder._

_Only then does Castiel smile and turns his head to look at Dean. “What’s wrong, love?”_

_“Nothing,” Dean answers, and rests his forehead against Castiel’s shoulder. “I just… I just keep asking myself what I could’ve possibly done so well in my life to deserve you.”_

_Castiel frowns and puts one of his hands on Dean’s thigh. “Dean…” he starts gently. “Look at me, come on.” He reaches with his hand and cups Dean’s cheek gently. “Dean,” he says, and Dean will never get tired of the way Castiel says his name. “You deserve so much more than you think. And you know I’ll give you the best that I have.”_

_Dean feels his cheeks turning red, and he doesn’t think he can’t handle what Castiel is trying to say. He tries to look away, but Castiel holds his gaze._

_“I love you, Dean, I love you so much,” Castiel says. “I don’t know how many times I will have to say it before you start believing it, but I have all the time in the world, you know?”_

_Dean smiles, because he can’t believe it, can’t believe how happy he gets to be, can’t believe that he has a wonderful, smart and kind man who loves him just as much as Dean loves him._

_“I love you, too,” Dean says, kissing him. “I love you so much, Castiel.”_

_For the first time in his life, Dean feels full. He feels like this time, he can make it work._

_Yeah, he thinks,_ they _can make it work._


End file.
